


All Now is Gone

by irisstone16



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Torture, its a lot of hurt rn, lots of sadness ok im sorry, this is basically post TWS and forgetting everything else afterwards
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-02-14 16:08:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13011351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisstone16/pseuds/irisstone16
Summary: "It was always the silence that made the worst ringing in your ears. The ringing that goes in and out almost like a tune, and by the time you finally manage to wrangle it in the corner of your mind it becomes the only thing you can hear, and you’d rather scream and yell until it stops than let it continue for any longer.That was definitely the worst part. Pain, pain was manageable. Your body lets you fall unconscious before it gets too unbearable. It’s the silent noise that really tears you down."aka, Steve finds Bucky and he's in a bad way





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> couldnt be bothered to search thoroughly for a fic that i liked so i wrote my own 
> 
> read at ur own risk this is sadness central my frens

His ears were ringing. 

Not the type of ringing that comes from standing too close to a grenade or from a shell on the beach in 1942. It was always the silence that made the worst ringing in your ears. The ringing that goes in and out almost like a tune, and by the time you finally manage to wrangle it in the corner of your mind it becomes the only thing you can hear, and you’d rather scream and yell until it stops than let it continue for any longer. 

That was definitely the worst part. Pain, pain was manageable. Your body lets you fall unconscious before it gets too unbearable. It’s the silent noise that really tears you down.

He couldn’t remember how long it had been. All Bucky could manage to figure out was that this was the longest he’d gone so far without someone deciding it was time to break more ribs. Every now and then a man would come in, yell meaningless questions at the Soldier, and use him as a punching bag when he wouldn’t answer. Couldn’t answer, would actually be the correct term. For the last‒ it’s gotta be more than a month‒ Bucky had been shackled to a metal chair cemented to a concrete block, with his right arm hooked up to an IV. He hadn’t figured out what they were pumping him full of, but whatever it was, it wasn’t playing around. Bucky’s left arm was almost entirely paralyzed except for a minor twitch now and then. The only light that he saw was from under the crack in a door across the room. Whatever was in there must have a window because he was sure they wouldn’t waste money on lights when there was barely any heat in this place to begin with. 

Even when someone would come in and break a finger or slice him up a bit, a new bag would replace the one filling his bloodstream. But now he knew something had changed. The bag hanging above him had gone dry long ago, and he could recognize the withdrawal symptoms when they started to hit. In a horrible way he wished someone would come and punch him across the face. 

At least the pain broke the silence. Bucky had almost completely lost sense of time; the only reason he could tell it was getting worse was because he was losing consciousness more often than he would like to admit. 

When he wasn’t unconscious, he was shaking, sweating, and his vision had started to blur together. It was a pretty shit way to go, but he was a pretty shit guy so in the end, it seemed fitting.

 

~~~~

 

Six months.

It had been six months since SHIELD fell with the helicarriers, and since Steve had been pulled out of the river. He wished like hell to be able to see Bucky again. He and Nat had followed a few leads now and then, but his trail had gone cold months ago. In between going on missions with the rest of the Avengers, him and Sam had been raiding old Hydra bases on the smallest of hopes they could find anything information about where Bucky could be. God, Sam was a real blessing. Steve had dragged him into his doomed crusade and Sam wouldn’t even entertain the thought of abandoning him. 

But they had been searching for so long that every once and awhile Tony would come with or Nat would tag along. It was a ridiculously grim roadtrip their gang would take a couple times a month. It soothed Steve’s nervous, constant thoughts about Bucky, but even he had to admit that eventually he would have to stop stealing the quinjet for random trips to Russia. 

These were the thoughts haunting Steve’s mind as he and Sam were flying over Siberia, heading for another thought to be abandoned Hydra outpost. This one was intriguing because Natasha’s Russian contacts had noticed increased activity near the base about a month ago, but since then it had gone quiet. A month ago Steve would have jumped at the thought of getting to someone who might know where Bucky was, because all the other places they went were sparsely populated. But when Nat got the intel the Avengers were preoccupied in South America, so this had been their first chance to head over.

Albeit the odds of finding anyone at the base was quite slim, even without the idea they had anything to do with Bucky, he still had to check it out. And Sam, bless him, was ready to condemn another old military base in the dead of winter just as much as Steve. 

“You ready?” Sam asked as they landed outside the base.

“As I’ll ever be.”

They exited the quinjet and sized up the base they were heading towards. It was partially buried in the side of a hill, surrounded by a tall fence with barbed wire circling the top. There were two large double doors with a thick chain wrapped between the handles that was secured with a padlock. The gate to the fence ecasing the base wasn’t locked, and Sam seemed to notice too, with a nod towards the ajar opening. Steve glanced around the base once more, noticing some large humvees that were completely blanketed in about a foot of snow. 

“No one’s been here for a while,” Steve said. “At least not as long as those cars have been here.”

Sam hummed in agreement as they approached the entrance. The chains and lock were similarly covered in snow, and Steve was a little surprised they hadn’t fallen off from corrosion at this point; blizzards have been tormenting this part of Russia for the past few weeks, Nat had told them. They were pretty lucky that they were able to fly there if Steve was completely honest. 

Steve used his shield and snapped the lock with ease. The two of them entered a long hall that was only illuminated by the door they had just opened. Doors and hallways extended like a ribcage from each side of the hall they walked down. Glancing into each room seemed to prove their assumption that the base had been abandoned long ago.

“I wish I had learned Russian.” Steve whispered as he looked at the names for each of the empty rooms they walked by. As much as he wanted one to say “Winter Soldier This Way,” he couldn’t make any sense of the characters. 

As they reached the end of the main hall, there was a door that was markedly different from the others. It was significantly larger and looked to be nearly a foot thick, with giant hinges the size of Steve’s fist. 

“What were they trying to keep out?” Sam pointed at the lock on the outside of the door. 

To be honest, Steve didn’t want to think about the range of possibilities that could answer those questions. Sam unlocked the door and they entered to a narrow and incredibly dark passageway. 

“Oh God, Buck.” 

The sight of him hit Steve like a freight train. Bucky was sitting in a chair in the middle of a large room with his head lolled to the side, wearing only underwear. He looked like a ghost. Bruises and cuts painted over his face and torso, and Steve could see track marks covering his right arm near where an IV was sticking out of him. He could tell Buck hadn’t eaten or even seen the sun anytime recently. 

“Holy shit,” Sam said as Steve slowly approached him.

“Buck? Bucky? It’s Steve,” He looked unconscious, but Steve wanted to make sure Bucky knew that he wasn’t going to hurt him.

As he got closer he could see that Bucky was sweating and shaking, but he was alive. 

“Buck?” Steve said as he reached out to touch his shoulder.

The instant he made contact Bucky’s shaking became more violent, and it looked like he was seizing.

“Oh god. Sam! Help me here.” Steve called out.

All of the sudden Bucky lurched forward, and Steve managed to get out of the way as he threw up whatever meager contents were in his stomach. As he fell back into the chair Sam reached out to feel for his pulse. 

“Steve, he’s barely there. We need to get him on the quinjet and in a hospital as soon as possible.”

“Okay, okay,” Steve muttered as he began inspecting the cuffs that were binding Bucky to the chair. 

There were hinges on one side of the restraints, and he started to look for any sort of keyhole or mechanism that would allow them to open without Steve having to slam his shield dangerously close to Bucky’s arms. Glancing around the room, Steve noticed a small lightswitch near the door they entered, but there weren’t any lights in the room. He went over and flipped the switch, and the constraints snapped open with a loud mechanical creak.

“Bucky, hey Buck. You’re gonna be fine. I’ve got you, okay? You’re safe now,” Steve said more for his benefit than Buck’s as he took one arm over his shoulder and Sam did the same.

Bucky seemed more awake now that he was moving, and through his raspy breaths Steve could hear he was mumbling something.

“..P-Please… Please, I… hurts..” 

Steve didn’t know what he was asking for, but he could connect the dots.

“Hey Bucky, its me. Its Steve. You’re gonna be okay pal. You’re safe, it’s okay.”


	2. Chapter 2

There was light. And noise. Someone opened a door.

Bucky was barely alive but he was able to figure that out. He didn’t have the energy to lift up his head, or move at all for that matter. 

The shaking had gotten worse.

Something touched his shoulder and it felt like his whole body was engulfed in flames. Suddenly Bucky was way too aware of everything coming in contact with his skin. He couldn’t stop the shaking. 

He vomited out pure stomach acid, which made his insides burn too. 

Bucky felt the IV rip out of his arm and then he was moving. He didn’t care where he was going, he just wanted the burning to stop. The fire was on his arms now, and the tops of his feet. Bucky was pleading to any God in the universe to stop, please stop, please, it hurt so much. 

He could hear someone talking. He couldn’t understand what they were saying, but Bucky knew it wasn’t the same voice as the man in the room. This voice wasn’t as loud. His sentences weren’t punctuated with punches or pain. Buck could swear he almost recognized this voice, but the thought was so brief and distant he wasn’t even able to think on it.

The fire was on his back now, but it had gotten quieter. Bucky knew it wasn’t a good sign. When the worst pain goes silent Buck always falls unconscious soon after. There were two voices now, talking to him. He still couldn’t quite hear what they were saying but Bucky would be damned if he didn’t do his best to stay awake. He was hardly alive but knew he was somewhere entirely different, and passing out right now wouldn’t be the best idea.

One of the voices had gone somewhere else. The other voice got quieter. Bucky could tell it was closer to him. And then the fire came back, this time on the side of his face, and he used the last of his energy to try to get away.

Then everything went dark.

 

~~~~

 

They made it to the quinjet. 

With Bucky’s metal arm over Steve, they managed to drag him through the snow and into the jet. Sam left Steve to carry Bucky’s weight and started laying down the seats that were folded up on the side of the jet. With an arm around his waist now Steve could tell his skin was clammy, and covered in dried sweat and blood.

“Here, lie him down,” Sam said.

With a grim thought Steve realized Buck didn’t weigh nearly as much as he should, as Sam and Steve laid him on four of the reclined seats. Steve hadn’t stopped talking to him the whole time, pleading with him to stay with them for a little while longer. They strapped him in as best they could and Sam went to start the engine. The quinjet could reach Mach 2 and Steve hoped and prayed it would be fast enough. 

Bucky’s shaking had gotten a little better when Steve kneeled down next to him, his face lying on the side toward Steve. 

“Buck. You’re gonna be okay, okay? You’ll be okay. We’ll be home soon,”

Steve hesitantly reached out to put his hand on the side of his face, but the instant Steve’s fingers touched his skin, Bucky jerked away with a grunt of pain. The shaking got worse again.

“Let’s go Sam,” Steve called out, and the jet took off.

 

A little while into the flight Steve joined Sam near the cockpit of the jet. They stood in silence for a long time before Steve got the nerve to speak.

“How long,” Steve said, just barely above a whisper. “How long do you think he’s been there?” 

“Couldn’t say.” Sam replied. “From the way he is just looking at him, I’d have to say at least a month. Probably longer. I mean that IV bag was empty, Steve. Those things aren’t supposed to be finished.”

“I know, I know.”

“Ok. I’ll put in a call to Tony and see what he can set us up with in the tower.” Sam said.

“We aren’t going to a hospital?” Steve asked. 

“Steve, you know he still is the Winter Soldier—” Steve tried to interrupt but Sam continued, “And I know he’s Bucky too, but all anyone is going to see is ‘Winter Soldier’. We can’t just call up a Brooklyn hospital and ask for a room for an assassin who’s on the brink, Steve. Could you imagine the security threats?” 

Steve took a moment before he replied. “Ok. Ok, Sam. Make sure Tony knows the details.” 

“And one more thing Steve,” Sam said as he was about to turn around, “you gotta start coming to terms with the possibility that the guy we just strapped into the jet might not be the Bucky you used to know.”

“Look Sam, Bucky pulled me out of the river, not the Winter Soldier. That? Back there?” Steve pointed to Bucky, “That’s Buck. I know what you’re saying Sam, I hear ya. But I know that’s Bucky.” 

Steve turned around and walked back to Bucky as Sam started a call to Tony. 

He meant what he said, but he was trying to convince himself as much as Sam. Steve wanted to think that when he was calling Bucky’s name, he heard it and recognized it, but he couldn’t even give himself that hope. Sam was right. He might not be Bucky when he wakes up, but he just has to be. Steve can’t accept that it could be the Soldier. It has to be him. It has to be Buck. 

 

Bucky had finally stopped shaking when they reached the tower. He was unconscious and his pulse was weak but Steve could hear small hoarse breaths coming from him. Tony met them on the landing pad with a stretcher and three EMT’s. As soon as Sam had landed, the two of them began carrying Bucky off the quinjet.

“Hey Cap. We set up a room for your pal off the medical wing. Can you give me the low down of what we got ourselves into?” Tony asked as they loaded Bucky onto the stretcher. 

They got him on the stretcher and the EMT’s started checking vital signs. 

“Well we don’t quite know.” Steve replied. “When we found him, he was in the middle of a Russian winter without any heat and hooked up to an empty IV bag. He was shaking something fierce on the ride over, and just now stopped.” 

“Do we know what the IV drip was?” One of the EMT’s asked as they put an oxygen mask on Bucky and rushed him through the tower. 

“Not a clue,” Sam replied. 

They eventually got Buck to the trauma room Tony had set up for them and were able to heave him to a bed. There were more doctors waiting for them when they got there and Steve knew Buck was in good hands but he the thought of leaving him hurt him so, so much. With some convincing and stern looks Sam got Steve to wait outside while the doctors worked on Bucky. 

It hit him all at once. Bucky is back. He’s back. He’s back and alive and god he’s so hurt. Could Steve have found him a month ago instead of today? How long had he been held there? Who was torturing him? What did they want to know? If it was Hydra, why would they need to torture him? Wouldn’t they just ask for a mission report? Or maybe it wasn’t Hydra. And thought brought on a can of worms he didn’t really want to open right now. Steve couldn’t stop the barrage of thoughts sieging his mind as he sat outside Bucky’s room. He glanced over at Sam who was standing with his arms crossed, a furrow in his brow, probably thinking the exact same things.

Tony joined Sam and Steve outside of Bucky’s room. 

“Ok so, what’s game plan folks? Tall, dark and metal wakes up and then what? Do we even know he’s not gonna kill the doctors keeping him alive right now?” 

“To be honest, I’m having similar thoughts here Steve.” Sam said, turning to Steve.

A long beat passed before Steve spoke. “First we get him stable, make sure he’s all healed up. Once we know he’s gonna wake up, we can add more security. Keep personnel with access to a minimum. But until then, his health is the number one priority. Honestly if he was lucid at this point I doubt he would have the energy to lift his arm; he wouldn’t be able to come close to hurting anyone even if he tried.” 

Another beat.

“Ok Rogers.” Stark replied.

Tony and Sam seemed shocked at the objectivity of Steve’s statement, and to be honest, Steve was shocked by himself a little too. Of course he wanted to help Bucky. Everything he does is to help Buck. But right now they need to be focused on making sure he’s alright before any of them consider him a safety hazard. Steve knew that it was Bucky in there, not the Soldier. When the time came that he was healthy enough to wake up, Steve would just have to convince everyone that it is Bucky. If he woke up and saw tons of armed guards around him Bucky might not think he was safe, and if he didn’t think he was safe, then no one would be safe. But Steve would cross that bridge when he got to it. To be frank he would rather stop the talks and just be with Bucky right now, so that’s what he does.

 

Steve rose from the chair he was sitting in and walked toward the window into Bucky’s room. Somehow it was worse seeing him in a hospital bed with concerned doctors running around him than in an abandoned hole in a Russian mountain. The stark contrast of him, so bloody and bruised and beaten, in the bright white hospital room with clean walls and proper lights made Steve sick to his stomach. He looked so small and frail, even though he was stronger than everyone in that room combined. Seeing him there brought back memories from back before Captain America and the Avengers, of the many times Steve was in a similar state, barely hanging on from a simple cold that turned into a bad fever or pneumonia. At least he knew that Bucky would bounce back. He will. He had to.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more of a bucky centric one this time yall, sorry its not super long! i would have had to dive into some stuff i wanted to save for the next chapter

THREE MONTHS EARLIER

The first thing he felt was cold metal gripping his skin. It went down his arms, his back. He felt it on his ankles and his wrists. He opened his eyes expecting to see but he couldn’t. Whatever new hell he was in was either incredibly dark, or his eyes were covered. Or maybe both. All Bucky could figure out at this point was that he needed to get out of wherever the hell he was.

Something else was off. His left arm was almost entirely incapable of moving. He could get a finger to twitch, but other than that the only way Bucky could tell it was still attached was because of the familiar dead weight of it pulling at his shoulder. He could move his right arm at least, but everything felt slow and sluggish. 

All of the sudden piercing cold water began to blast his chest, splashing up into his face and spraying down his legs. The weight of a black hood became heavy upon his head as the onslaught of water continued. 

Then it stopped. His heart pounding and his head spinning, Bucky managed to hear a familiar word spoken abruptly.

“Soldat.”

He froze. As much as he could at least, with his whole body still shaking from the numbing water. 

The hood was ripped from his head, but the darkness remained. Drops of water fell from strands of his hair into his lap. He could see a needle in his arm, and the tube connecting to a bag of clear liquid. 

The same word, this time louder. “Soldat.” 

Soldat. Soldier. That’s not who he was anymore. A slap cracked across his face, echoing in the silence. 

“That is who you are and that is always who you will be,” The man continued.

Maybe it wasn’t quiet. Maybe he said that out loud. Bucky looked at the man before him. Inconsequential. Average. Tall white guy with dark hair and dark eyes. Built broad, like a soldier. His mouth was moving but Bucky only just started hearing him.

“...know you know something. We also know you know how this goes if you don’t tell us. You aren’t naive, and I sure as hell hope you aren’t stupid enough to let this last as long as it can.”

Bucky let his head fall down and spit fall out of his mouth. 

“We got you on something pretty powerful. It’s a paralytic, and one of the best in the business. Even on a super charged soldier it can do some magical things. Right now you’re still recovering from the initial dose, but I’m not lying when I tell you it doesn’t get much better. I’ll be back when you can form the words to tell us what we want.” 

And like that, he was gone. Muffled footsteps began fading away. If his brain was working fast enough to panic, Bucky would probably be doing that. Instead he lets the Soldier take over for a minute to try to figure this out.

Unremarkable, that’s for sure. American by his voice, definitely with a private organization. Probably former military or specially trained. Bucky’s left arm was out and his other limbs weren’t moving as quick as they should. Immune system and other bodily functions were probably working slowly as well. Both legs were shackled to the chair he was sitting in, as were both arms. The restraints were heavy, not normal handcuffs and nothing he could break out of when he could barely move. The IV bag dripping into his veins read nothing, and the room he was in was cold and dark, without any natural light.

Fuck. Shit fuck. He was panicking now. After the helicarriers fell he disappeared. He couldn’t bring himself to get too far from New York but Bucky left every trace of who he was behind. SHIELD was gone. Hydra was gone. This guy didn’t seem to have any allegiance. Bucky had no idea what he wanted and that terrified him.

\----

Hours passed before the man came back, armed with questions and fists. Two ribs were definitely fractured, a third one well on its way. It went on until blood was dripping out of his mouth and Bucky was an inch from unconsciousness. He didn’t know what that man wanted. Information? Bucky sure as hell didn’t have that. He kept yelling about Hydra and locations and dates and none of them were making sense to him. Some of the places he recognized. Former bases, safe houses. It didn’t matter though. He was right, Bucky knew how this would go. He didn’t want to be on the wrong end of the gun when they found the information they were looking for. 

Days blurred together. Night and day were memories he forgot when a new bruise was made and a different knife was introduced. Bucky stopped trying to count the days when the man stopped coming back. He wasn’t sure whether they left him to die in this godforsaken hole or if this was a new tactic to make him talk. He didn’t really care either way. When he wasn’t unconscious he was in his head most of the time anyways. Sometimes he would go back before everything went to shit and they joined the army, when days were filled with drinking or dancing with Steve. Steve was so tiny back then, but he’d never let you know pneumonia was knocking on his door.

There are some good memories during the war. “The Howling Commandos,” the best squadron the war ever saw. Bucky knew they’re all gone but sometimes he’d think about the successful missions and when they’d celebrate afterwards. Steve was always a lightweight but after the serum he’d drink like a fish and still never get quite as drunk as everyone else. Bucky didn’t really drink to get drunk, but he’d drink for an excuse to sling his arm around Steve, lean into him, let a glance linger a little longer than normal. Everyone in the Commandos knew they were more than just pals. No one really knew how much more they were, but they each had their bets. Steve and Bucky never really just “best friends” and they didn’t fit the label of “boyfriends” either. They were just Steve and Bucky. Bucky and Steve. The pair of soldiers who bickered like old men and fought like hell for each other. 

These were the good memories Bucky would visit, watching them play out like the pages in a book. He does his best to forget after the fall. Sometimes he can’t stop the memories and the pain brought to the surface with every deepening cut. Bucky damn well tried though. His daydreams and nightmares began to blur together as the silence kept getting louder. Eventually the IV bag dried out and no one came to replace it. This was when Bucky was sure he started hallucinating.


End file.
